Light Reflections

 

I called an old high school friend today, I was desperate for cash so I asked him if he could buy a book from me. For only R200, judging from his social media posts, that should be nothing to him. I explained I had written a book and would be happy if he could get a copy for himself and read my story…he was all too happy to support! Support! I didn’t want to use that word. Support! This word has the ability to make me feel less sufficient as an adult! It just reminds me of my daughters and how I am unable to support them. It just reminds me of how dependent on others for support…others to support me so I could eat from time to time; like my mother buying me groceries because I cannot afford to care for myself; or my current girlfriend buying me clothes because she thinks the rags I own make me look poor. And now my old friend would be happy to support me! By buying just one copy of a book that cost me the most money I had ever held in years to get.

I hadn’t worked for money in a while. For some reason, charging people for chess lessons felt like a very desperate move on my part, so I stopped charging. You would charge what you think the lesson is worth, and people will complain and tell you what they can afford. You would argue about how all this money only covers the transport to their venue and they would argue that not a lot of kids are interested in paying for something they don’t understand; which really sounds stupid because that should be the one thing they spend on, getting to understand what they don’t understand! But winning an argument with a potential client means losing the client, or so we have been told. Thus in situations like these, for fear of diminishing the value of the game in the eyes of bystanders, I always feel it is necessary to just let everybody come attend the class for free instead of charging peanuts for lessons. And so it had been like that for years.

If you asked I would tell you it was worth it, doing it for free! It felt like I owned the process. If no one paid me, it meant that no one could tell me a thing when it comes to the quality of the lessons I gave. I was doing it for me! So when I dedicated extra hours to it, it as to prove to myself that everything I touch turns to gold! It was a dedication to prove to myself that I cannot make money, but I can make a difference! I so desperately wanted to make a difference that I forgot about the importance of money; except for the times when my mother asked if I planned to find a real job; or when my daughter called saying she missed me because she hadn’t seen me in a while; then I would have to scrape for some cash to get me to Jo’burg to see her for a few days and come back.

It didn’t matter if I ate or not on the way. I was already used to not eating. Sometimes I would spend a whole day without eating and not really knowing whether I would eat the next day or not. But I tell you, each time I got in front of these kids to talk about the pawns and the knights; the rooks and the bishops; the Kings and the Queens, I would feel as powerful as the Queens and as important as the Kings! These two or three hours where the most special hours of all my days. I just wished they would last longer, but I couldn’t keep the kids all day with me!

So that was that. To reminisce of these moments and not feel like my life was wasting away, I would write about my experiences like a sociologist involved in some crucial social research with the potential of changing the fate of rural communities. It made sense because I am of course a Sociology graduate, though I was as broke as a dropout. I wrote about my pains being this poor with so much knowledge of such valuable things; I wrote about the circumstances I found myself in and what may have led to it; my struggles with love and relationships because, who would want to be with a poor smart-ass?  I wrote down all my feelings just to keep living and feel there was meaning to all this charade. I wrote to ward off depression and anxiety especially when the nights got colder and more lonelier. I wrote to give value and meaning to these hunger pangs that seemed to have found a home in me.  I wrote until I had enough to compile a book of reflections and I called it “The Black Chronicles- Reflections from the Dark Side”

I had not felt so driven about personal achievement for a long time until that book. I was so committed to seeing it come to be! The culmination of all my education and sufferings coming to one piece of work. I found a guy who claimed he was a book publisher and he promised to make all my desires into a reality for a fee.

He charged me money I did not have; money I had never seen in a very long time, if not ever. But I was so determined and confident that the book had to come out; I was so sure it could add value to me and to others who may have the opportunity to read it.

I spoke to my younger brother and all he could spare was a thousand rands; my mother also contributed the same but two thousand rands was just too far from the target amount. I got a promotional job for a week and a few days which paid a few good thousands; but after tax, there was little good left of the thousands, so I still had around three thousand five hundred rands towards the R6500 this guy needed. That is when I called out to a good friend of mine named thabo, and without too many questions, Thabo immediately sent the R3000 to the guys account.

I felt like my life was shifting towards the right direction. I felt like my dreams were at that point validated by this grandiose gesture from this friend of mine and I felt that with such support (yes, support!) nothing was beyond my reach.

A week later, this guy whom I will now refer to as Mr. Born Great, he calls to tell me my book appears longer than expected and the printers needed extra money for the number of copies we had ordered. That was 100 copies ordered. The printers needed another R1500, he said.

That was money I did not have; money I had no way of getting. My hopes began fading. I could not go back to Thabo and undermine his great gesture by asking him for more after he had just given so much. It wouldn’t be right, morally speaking.

Everyone else, I had already tried and they had given me their reasons why they were unable to assist before, so it would be useless to go to them now with a new story hoping they change theirs. Everyone I had asked, except my girlfriend at the time. I had to swallow what little pride I had left and ask my employed girlfriend to loan me money I otherwise had no way of paying back.

I would like to pretend that this situation presented a huge paradigm shift for me but the truth is I had learned long ago that in a desperate situation, any help is good help regardless of whom it comes from. I also thought it would be unfair to not allow her the opportunity to offer me help when I needed it. However, I hated the fact that at that point I was starting to doubt the sincerity of Mr. Born Great, thinking why would he send me a quote without knowing the actual size of the book; but I quickly shut off that questioning voice because I could not convince anyone to finance a project I have doubts about.

Juliet gave me the money and Mr. Born Great was paid up. We waited for the 100 copies as promised and a serious marketing plan to get us our money back as soon as possible.

I couldn’t wait to hold the book in my hand and speak about it to anyone who would listen; Blood, Sweat and Tears beautifully packaged in an amazing golden cover designed by the extremely talented Jolene Nkuna of SerutciPhothography.

The moment came and I seized it in my hands; my life here in my hands, I thought. I felt so ashamed that I had packaged my pain in a book for anyone to read about. I just wished it would be sold somewhere far from me where no one personally knew me. But the books where here now and it was upon me to sell them. All 50 that Mr. Born Great brought instead of the 100 we agreed on. He would sell the others from his side in Pretoria and Nkomazi through his shops.

I opened the book and was struck with instant grief at the sight of the dedication page:

I dedicate this book to my late sister Beatrice Bhila as her soul c

      ontinues to rest in peace

What happened to the word “continues”? why is it broken? Mr. Born Great had no answers! I looked through the whole book and it appeared all the pages had the same problem! Words were sloppily broken stealing away the reading flow and pleasure from the reader. It was just a painful labour reading the book. It was not what anyone expects when they pay to get a book printed and certainly nothing like anyone would expect when they buy a book.

I was broken. So much money wasted printing this mistakes! Why didn’t he ask for a proof copy? Why did he not fix the mistake before going to print? Its not like he was chasing a deadline?!

I wondered how this mistake happened until I figured it out I had sent him a PDF ready to print copy which was properly aligned but he requested I send him a word document so he could do some edits. It turned out that the Word doc program I had used to type the book was not compatible with the one he was using to make the edits. In fact, there was no edit that needed his hand, he just wanted to add his name to it and claim that it was

“Published and Distributed by: Born Great Movement”

It was so disappointing that he would rather have his name on my product even if it meant compromising the quality of the product itself!

 I confronted him about it and he suggested that we try and sell the book because he was sure a lot of readers wouldn’t mind the “minor setbacks”. He promised that if it proved to be a problem, he would print fresh copies using his own money. That was the last time I spoke to him. He had since blocked my numbers and disappeared with the rest of my books and left me with these erroneous reading obstacle course!

And there I was calling this old friend for a sale and he says he would be happy to support me by buying a book. I was all too happy to hear him say these assuring words. I was so glad that R200 was coming my way just in time for my older daughter’s birthday. I would buy cake for R80 and a 2 liter soft drink for R20 or so…I’m not quite sure how much those cost, haven’t bought one in a while. The other R100 would get me 2 braai packs of chicken to hopefully last me for the month. I guess it makes sense to use the word support after all!

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The Black Chronicles and my other books are available on eBook from Amazon through the link below:

https://www.amazon.com/Eddie-Bhila/e/B08F3HG71F

Hard copies can be purchased via Takealot through the link below :

The Coach Life Adventures Through Chess

https://www.takealot.com/the-coach/PLID65914423

The Coach Chess Manual

https://www.takealot.com/the-coach-chess-manual/PLID69487127

Wine and Tears

Wine and Tears

Hell I’m not drunk. Just a little tipsy to be honest. I drank so much the liquid is starting to seep through my eyes. Maybe I am a little emotional tonight. I get like that when I drink alone. It’s a sad experience really; I guess the true danger of alcohol that they don’t put on the labels: reduces driving ability but could also drive you insane if you drink it alone.

Why am I drinking alone when I have such a big family? My kids are grown now, I should be drinking and talking to them about life and love. But none of them are with me. All with their mothers, it’s sad. I swore I would never be like my father, but what the hell did I know swearing on things I had little control over?! We are all product of the same system: fathers go away in search of money believing families need money to survive; you cannot live on love, they say. Well it appears generations will suffer for lack of love as a result of such shallow beliefs. They love their work for sure; spending so much time on it could make it your life. Hell my grandfather spent so much time at his work he ended up never coming back home till he died…in the gold mines!

My father worked Monday to Monday, sunrise till sunset. The only time you ever saw him was when he was tired and about to rest…right after he finished drinking his beer. Makes you wonder where in the world he got the time to make 27 children with 7 different women! I guess you do make time for the things you do love after all. I’d be a little different if I got a little bit of love from him, probably.

Yet now I’m grown and trying to start a new family every so often…and always seem to be failing. I’m like a checkers player trying to play a chess game! I don’t know how to do this; and maybe all these women I am attracted to have the same problem too. We are trying to build a family when we ourselves are products of broken families; hell the only prototype of a family that we have is filled with hate; anger and a whole lot of fear!!

I read there was a great man that once said “if you love your children, get a business, not a job”. Hopefully a business would not steal you from your family; hell it will allow you to take your kids with you to work and maybe one day it will become theirs. Now all this time my father spent on his work could be something we all share if it was spent on his own business.

But then again, what do I know, right? We are all products of the same system. Maybe he also tried, and failed. Just like I keep trying and still failing. Now my biggest fear is never being able to love my children, and they grow up to be just as loveless as I am: hell it’s hard to expect that their mothers give them the love I cannot give to them. I happen to believe mothers need love for them to be able to pass it on to the children, otherwise they get drained of the little they have and get bitter; then the kids will suffer the wrath. Crazy ideas I have really, it must be the wine. But truth is I have seen something that makes me say this; see when the mother is abused by the father, they pass the abuse on to the child. And similarly if the mother is loved by the father, they pass on the love to the child: physically abused mothers physically abuse their own children; emotionally abused mothers emotionally abuse their children! I’m starting to sound like a professional of sorts, huh! Red wine will do that to you; make you feel smarter than you actually are. Well I do have a little bit of education but it still does not qualify me to make such assertions. Just my fears really; my personal worries.

What if I end up alone; with my seed spread widely across the country and yet I am here, alone; drinking myself to sleep countless nights in a row. Drinking oneself to sleep is no different from crying yourself to sleep. Ask me I know. You wake up with the sadness still lingering waiting for night to fall, and you are alone again; then thoughts start flooding back one by one.

How did I mess it up with baby mama number two; we were both grown and ready to be responsible, but what went wrong? Was I too impatient with her and failed to understand that she still had a role to play in her mother’s house? Maybe it was her fault; she was trying to be something to everybody; a good sister, a good friend, a good employee, a good daughter, a good neighbour, a good colleague, a good aunt, a good niece and even a good acquaintance to some. I know she was a good mother too but I did not feel she was a good lover. She divided up her time so much there was too little left for me. Maybe I was too demanding; maybe the problem was I needed too much of her time and expected that she let go of some of her roles to make time for me and our child; give us a chance to be a family. But what do we know about family, right?

I remember once she asked; “if I don’t go to work this weekend as you ask, will you be able to give me the money I stand to make working weekend? I didn’t think so!” 

She was right, I did not have that money, but I also didn’t think I needed to buy her time. Well as she made it clear, I could not afford her time. I guess that made me feel like I was not man enough. It ended. I got tired of being made to feel like less of a man; whatever that means. Hell I don’t even know what it means to be a man!

Maybe number three would have worked out if I was not trying to balance out 1 and 2 while I was with her. I kept trying to keep contact with both children and their mothers while she was pregnant and sometimes the phone would ring while she was trying to speak to me about her worries especially being so close to giving birth. I know she felt the birth of our child was not as special for me as it was for her; this being her first and for me only the third. After she gave birth to our daughter, this being my third daughter, she felt there was no reason to continue our relationship.

She claims she saw it in my face that I wasn’t so excited. And maybe if it was a boy like the doctor thought it would be, I would have been happier and our relationship would have a chance but nah! I think she got pregnant too quick; before she had a good grasp of my situation.

Well now baby number four was a boy…that too did not survive. Well I have been drinking ever since. Whoever thinks I have a drinking problem is not looking deep enough; that’s like saying the person who cries themselves to sleep has a crying problem. I do have a problem and drinking only helps me manage it. I know it won’t go away, whether I feed it wine or not. If you ask me what problem I have, I would tell you I have a love problem; coming from a system that did not allow me to get love and ultimately unable to give it. One day I will get it right, but till then I’ll just keep drinking myself to sleep while trying to drive the tears away.

                                                                                                                                                Written by Eddie Bhila

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Chess Thrives under Lock-down!

With the outbreak of the Corona Virus at its height and many countries across the world under strict lock-down for fear of the spread of the virus, sporting activities are at their lowest and many sporting codes are suffering the effects. Chess however is one of the few, if not the only sport that can survive in its truest nature through the lock-down. By this I mean chess players can play a proper game of chess in spite of the lock-down restrictions and feel all the pleasures of winning; the pains of losing and the anxiety associated with the anticipation of your opponents next move and the hopes that he/she misses your punishable blunder. The same cannot be said of other sports when forced to be moved to other platforms.

This is an article about the different forms of online chess and how each of them can be utilised in these tough times.

Chess has always been a sport appreciated by a few and mastered by even fewer mortals. Chess players have always been on demand. Skilled chess players always had a difficulty meeting in person with players who are on a playing level that allowed them to play intense and seriously challenging games; the only pleasurable kind. This is why chess players are such a close-knit group connected by this beautiful game. When a chess player meets a formidable opponent, they try to keep contact with them for as long as the game is good. This has led to the advent of a long distance format of chess play known as correspondence Chess. Correspondence chess was initially played by post where each player would send their move in response to their opponents move via the post mailing system. People would get old playing one game together but each move sent or received brought its own unique brightness to the day of the player.

Each player would set-up a board in their table at home (or in a public place if they had spectators). The first player would make the first move then write the co-ordinates on a piece of paper (for example e4 which means that a pawn has been moved to the square on the forth rank of the E-file). This piece of paper would be posted to the opponent in a different country or region who would also be having their own board setup. Upon receipt of the post, they would make the move on the board then sit looking at the board and think of an appropriate response to e4. They would decide on the move, make the move on their board then write in down on a piece of paper to post. Such games would last for weeks, months and even years depending on the pace of play and the time it took for the post to get from one player to the other.

 With the inventions of telephones, correspondence chess became much faster. Players would setup their boards in their respective homes or public places then make a phone call to the opponent letting them know what move they had made. Then after came emails and moves could be electronically mailed to opponents almost immediately and the best thing about it was that records could be retained for longer periods in the mailbox. This has been the evolution over time of the correspondence chess. Nowadays people can play correspondence setup via social media platforms such as Facebook, WhatsApp and other media.

Nhlanhla "Jumbo" Tsela playing correspondence chess against yours truly via Facebook messenger

With the improvement of technology overtime, chess players seem to be the ones who have benefited the most from technological progress. Today we have so many platforms that allow players to play a live game of chess with opponents from different countries. Such platforms allow both player to look at the same board and witness their opponent’s move as it is made in real time. The beauty of such platforms is that they allow spectators to watch the games also in real time from the comfort of their homes and witness as their favourite players trick their opponents through tactical play and cheer them on in the comments sections.

Fide Master and National Chess Champion Banele Mhango playing an Online Chess Tournament

Live chess has made it possible for players to choose between different time formats of play depending on whether they would like instant pain/gratification or delayed pain/gratification. We have quick play formats for the players with speed and accuracy. These formats are for players who have learned their lines and depend mostly on instincts to respond to threats during a game as the formats hardly afford players any thinking time. These are formats such as Bullet time format which is anytime control less than 3 minutes per player. In such formats, players would give each other two minutes to complete their moves. This means that in a two-minute bullet time control, a game of chess could be finished in less than four minutes and the first player to run down his/her clock loses the game. There is the most popular option of playing blitz games which are time controls of between three minutes and ten minutes. This is where players learn the importance of being decisive and committed as there is no chance to doubt and second guess your moves.

There is also the option of rapid play which affords players some thinking time, though no too much of it. These are the time controls of above ten minutes and less than 30 minutes per player. This means that a rapid game has to be completed within an hour.

And for those that would still like to practice patience and do proper calculations before making their moves, we have the classical time format which is anything above 30 minutes up to as many as 12 hours per game. This is a true test of skill and mental endurance as a game hardly ever ends on time; players lose the game before they run out of time

Juliet Mathebula playing a game of rapid Chess on her cellphone while doing some essentials shopping

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The online chess platforms present a real development opportunity for those that would like to improve their game by playing stronger players who could challenge them out of their comfort zones; or by watching stronger players battling out their best ideas. This is also great for people who would like to learn how to play the game of chess as most platforms also have lessons available for beginners who would like to master the basics for free.

Lindokuhle Bhila doing some Chess puzzles on Lichess.org

In this period of social-distancing, where personal contact is discouraged and social life seem impossible, the online chess platform offers a community that is rich in entertainment, full of the complexities of life that involve losses and gains; pleasures and pains. And the great thing about it is you can track your development through rating points that you accumulate with every game won, and reduce with every game lost.

So if you are a sport-lover and enjoy watching as actual sweat and blood falls out of the faces of superior beings as they battle for dominance, Chess is your sport to follow right now and Online is the platform which offers it raw and unfiltered!

P.S, if you are interested in sponsoring and hosting an Online Chess tournament for your club, school team or one that is open to all chess players in the country, chat to me via WhatsApp and we could organise something. 

My number is 0715814519

Learn, Play, Compete and Thrive

The Coach Chess Academy

By. Eddie Bhila

author of The Coach Life Adventures Through Chess and The Coach Chess Manual

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Journey Towards "The Coach Chess Academy"

My Business Journey

                                                                                               By Phumlani Eddy Bhila

My name is Eddie. I run a Chess Academy called The Coach Chess Academy. We aim to make Chess more visible and accessible to all who are interested in this game of strategies. In this essay I will share with you how I became exposed to Chess and why I thought it would make a great business idea. In essence, I will share with you what problems I believe my business is solving. I will share with you my journey in this Chess business.

I grew up in Msogwaba, an area that was once referred to as one of the most dangerous places in South Africa by then President of the Country Mr. Thabo Mbeki. I grew up in a time when my uncles where some of the most wanted criminals in the country and any adult male in the community was either a robber, a murderer or a nobody! It was inevitable that our role models as boys where the fearless criminals who seemed to have everything they wanted. 

We grew older as boys playing “guns and robbers”, pretend-drinking and smoking, mimicking our superheroes. It’s not like we had any more options as far as recreational activities where concerned, especially since we were either not old enough or not good enough to join the local soccer team. Well you guessed it, soccer was the only sport available in the community.

As we grew older, some of our peers took an early initiation into the life of night-time-hustling while some of us stayed on the “righteous path”. I was fortunate enough to make it to tertiary and have a change in environment which offered a new perspective on life.

While in University I met this friend, a girl, who liked so much to talk about Chess and I always felt embarrassed to say “I have no idea what that is” so I always pretended I had no care in discussing useless board games that had no relevance to my situation. My situation was that of a student struggling to stay up at night studying large volumes of works and still having to wake early mornings to attend classes. In attempt to convince me that there is value in this Chess game of hers, she claimed “well, Chess helps build mental endurance which will help you study for longer without getting tired too quickly”.

Eddie Bhila (The Coach, The Author)

Eventually I allowed myself to be taught by this girl how to play Chess and it was nothing like I had expected it to be. Of course it looked boring to watch; but the feeling when you are in the game playing, is nothing like anything I had ever felt. The feeling of both fear and excitement simultaneously aroused by the anticipation of your opponent’s next move; the constant surge of emotions as you wonder if your opponents next move might end the game before you have the chance to play your killer move; the continuous calculations of “if she plays there, I will play there and then she will play this piece here and I will have a chance to play here and finish the game. But what if she plays here instead of there and I will have no chance to escape the attack and lose?”. This is the type of unsurpassed mental stimulation that is offered by the game of Chess. The opportunity to come up with a winning strategy, try it out on the board and experience the results first-hand. If the strategy fails, you feel it instantly and it hurts. You deal with the pain and immediately attempt to modify your strategy and make some improvements then get a chance to try it out again. If it works, the feeling of insurmountable pleasure just takes over your brain and you are the happiest person on earth for that moment. This mental stimulation is believed to be what makes Chess so addictive.

I played Chess since then experiencing many defeats and victories; the defeats made me start reading Chess books and learn about chess principles; the victories made me feel like I could teach someone else how to play and pay it forward.

After completing my studies, I was back home after having disappeared for a few years hardly ever visiting on holidays. I had a single Chess board and planned to teach a few of my old friends this ‘mysterious strategic thinking game’ that I had brought from Gauteng. I asked about my one friend, Pinto, the smartest young man I had ever known personally. This boy created a radio using metal scraps and old batteries he picked up from rubbish pits. This boy made a helicopter for his Primary School Science project and it could actually fly. I remember promising him that we would work together when we grow up and my role would be to get funding for his designs and we would get rich the right way.

When I asked where Pinto was, I was told he had been killed in a shoot-out with the police just a few months back. He had been a wanted ‘criminal’ for a while for a murder he had allegedly committed. It had been alleged that he had shot and killed the man who had murdered his mother. Our dream died with him and a community lost out on a potential positive role model. I proceeded to ask about other friends and found that some had been in prison doing time for multiple robberies and other crimes. Those that were not in prison were either walking around in dirty rags hardly recognizable while picking up scraps or begging for change (the wrong kind!). of course there were those that looked like they still had it under control; drinking expensive alcohol any day of the week, dressed in expensive looking clothes and yet no one would say how they made their money. Those were the role models.

After seeing the impact of having these kinds of role models in our community, I decided to commit myself to the mission of creating positive role models that the community would be proud of. I decided I was going to introduce the young people of Msogwaba to this powerful game of Chess. It was my hope that the lessons they would learn over the Chess board would be extrapolated to their circumstances in life. You think before you make a move! You consider the consequences of each move before you make it, then decide if you are willing to live with them. You do not play a game without a plan, a strategy. Each move you make must be leading you closer to your goal, in line with your strategy. That is Chess, and I was sure the kids in Msogwaba needed it more than it needed them.

I visited Msogwaba Primary school where I had gone as a kid and asked Principal Mathebula if I could be allowed to impart the skill of Chess to the kids in her school. She welcomed me with open arms. The kids also welcomed the new sport which presented them an alternative to the usual soccer. Unfortunately, I only had one board and could only teach a few at a time so some had to be side-lined. In about three months of training, the kids seem like they already knew what they were doing. Chess almost seemed natural to them. I tried to find out about Chess competitions for them to compete in and discovered there was a local federation that held tournaments every month. Though the entry fees were too expensive, we thought we should at least try out and see if the kids could actually handle the pressure of playing in a formal setting. The school agreed to pay for a few of them and I created an internal competition to select the best to represent us.

We hired a taxi and took ten kids to a chess tournament. The tournament grouped them according to their age groups and we had three kids playing under 10, five under 12 and two under 14. We won a gold medal in the under 10, a gold medal under 12 and a bronze medal under 14. This was quite assuring. Our team was entered in the National Schools’ team Chess Championship in 2014. We won the sub-regional, we won the regionals and eventually won the provincials to become the Provincial Schools Teams Chess Champions. This meant that we had the opportunity to represent the province in the National Schools Teams Chess Championship in Pretoria.

The personal impact of all these results in the kids was something special; their confidence levels improved significantly. They could finally look you in the eye when you talk; they could speak up with confidence now and raise rational concerns with substantial reasons. Even the conversations with them where finally interesting, they had substance and spoke about relevant issues. They could analyse the news; question information and make up their minds about their own views. The transformation was amazing. I had experienced first-hand what Chess can do to a child’s mental development and I planned to provide that opportunity to every child in my reach.

Lindokuhle Bhila Mpumalanga Schools Chess Champion 2015 to 2019
SAJCC National WildCard Chess Champion 2016

Maybe I have to state that we never won the National Championship but we did put up an impressive fight. However, some of the players in the team went on to win Individual National Chess Championships. Some of them even had the opportunity to play for Team South Africa in international Chess Championships in Sri Lanka, Egypt, Turkey, Kenya and other countries, all carrying the name of Msogwaba in positive light. One of the proudest moments was when the Mpumalanga Sports Star of the Year was announced and it happened to be one of the kids in my team. That’s when I felt that we had done it. The Mpumalanga Sports Star of the Year 2019 comes from Msogwaba and I had everything to do with it! We had created positive role models for our communities, people that our kids can look up to and try to emulate. Not only that, two of our players are now at University pursuing their Bachelors degrees while a few others are in Matric aiming to surpass the high standard set by their team mates before them.

From left: Simphiwe Mbuyane, Banele Mhango, Eddie Bhila, Adolph Nkosi

Now back to why I believe this Chess interest would make a great business idea. I have read somewhere that entrepreneurship should be about making positive social impact. I have also learned that the best entrepreneurs are the ones who are able to turn their passions into profit. I am passionate about social development and I believe Chess provides the most necessary development in any society, and that is the development of the youths’ mental capacity.

I have considered that if I continue doing Chess coaching as a charity or a pass-time hobby, I would likely lose my drive when suddenly I have to prioritize my time for things that pay the bills. This would compromise the quality of the lessons and the quality of the players I produce. The one thing that impacts the learners more than the information I provide, is the passion with which I deliver the information. I cannot afford to lose that. Plus, I have a vision of creating the biggest Chess League in the Province with the best prizes for the Champions and runner-ups. This is not something one can do as a hobby. I aim to make Chess one of the most rewarding sports in the province, especially since the best Chess Players in the province are my own students. The Coach Chess Academy will be a name synonymous to Chess excellence in Mpumalanga, and that is a promise!

P.S, now that I think about it, Chess did need the Kids in Msogwaba just as much as they needed it. They managed to popularize the game in the Province. The Mpumalanga Sports star of the Year is a Chess Player for crying out loud! What more could Chess ask for? National Sports Star of the Year? Coming right up!

Mpumalanga Sports Star of the year (2019) FM Banele Mhango
SAJCCC National Chess Champion 2018-2019 

 If you are interested in reading our story extensively, purchase a copy of my book titled: The Coach~ Life Adventures Through Chess available on takealot.com through the link below:

https://www.takealot.com/the-coach/PLID65914423

We also have a Chess Manual published on takealot to help you learn how to play Chess from anywhere in the country

https://www.takealot.com/the-coach-chess-manual/PLID69487127

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WARNING: ALCOHOL KILLS!!!

The time is 20.30 monday evening on the 1st of April. As the call comes I am thinking "somebody delayed their April fools prank, what can Sboniso say at this time of the night that can get me running a fools errand?!"

I picked up and on the other side speaks Lunga. He is completely freaked out I can hear it in his voice as he starters, struggling to catch his breath "bhuti Eddie, bhuti Sboniso ucule..uculekile akanyakati" He is unconcious and cannot move at this time? Why now? What could have happened? This does not make sense to me. The phone cuts off and I immediately call back just to get the missing details of this delayed prank, because even when you know a person is lying to you, your curiousity makes you try and get the full details of the lie before you can dismiss it.

Lunga picks up before the second ring starts: "Hello?"

"Lunga, just tell me what the problem is. Why is he uncounsious? What happened?"

Lunga does not know. He found him like that in the kitchen and struggled to get him up. It was no prank. I could hear the voice of Nomvula crying in the background beckoning for her brother to say something , all to no avail.

On Friday afternoon Sboniso and Lunga got a call from Samantha, my younger sister who is a student at TUT Nelspruit campus saying they were celebrating a friends birthday at Cayotes, ShisaNyama in Nelspruit. They rushed to town and found all kinds of booze set up on the tables and were told they could help themselves to whatever they liked: Spirits, Ciders and Beers only. My younger brother Sboniso, just like my older brother Sfiso and Sboniso's twin brother from another mother, Thando, all do not like eating when they are drinking. Their excuse is that they lose appetite for food once ghey start drinking but sometimes they tell you the food makes them sober up and that to them defeats the purpose of drinking: "We will eat when we go to sleep" my older brother would say "Not while we are still drinking. Nyofa wena because you like food so much." "I am a drinker not a eater", Sboniso would say. And when they get home, they are ususally too drunk to eat and they just fall asleep until the next day.

This is what happened with Sboniso on this day at Cayotes. They got back home in the early hours of the morning and he in particular, slept until the afternoon. When he woke up, as he relates the story later, he tried to eat his dinner plate from the previous night but he felt the food could not go down. He thought maybe if he got one beer to cure the hangover, then he would be able to eat. He went and got a court, 750ml of beer and drank it. The funny thing is that after he finished the beer he did not feel hungry anymore. He looked at the time and thought, it is afternoon anyways, good time to start drinking so he went and got another two courts for himself. This time Lunga is feeling like "nuh, I can't drink today, I'm recovering from last night" and watching tv. Sboniso plays some music for himself and tries to call up some friends or a girlfriend to chill and drink with, with no luck until a friend he was hardly considering for some reasons known to him alone, gives him a call telling him he has a bottle of Skyy Vodka, if he can bring some mixers, they have a party. Of course the mixers mean more than just the drinks. You cannot have a party with just guys now, can you?

My brother got dressed up, called and directed a few female friends to his friend's place and headed the same way himself.

By 23.00 their vodka was done so they went to the nearest tarven for a few more drinks and found there was a good time there and stayed on. The funtime went on till 02.30 with my brother not getting any skirt to take home with yet again.

He was woken up in the morning by his good friend Banele who got his missed call from the night before while he was at work doing a nightshift. They spoke and Banele said he was on his way to pick him up, he needed Sboniso to accompany him to this two church girls who wanted him to drive them to church. They went and met the two lovely girls dressed for the Lord. Dropped them off at church then went to the complex to get a six pack of beers to chill. Four beers down Banele felt like sleeping so he dropped Sboniso off at home with the beers and drove home. Sboniso chilled alone for about an hour watching a movie, still not thinking about food until he fell asleep with an open beer in his hand.

He woke up at around 8pm opened his phone and texted his girlfriend to come over. That is when he realised he might need some energy, so he walked up to the kitchen to try and fix himself something to eat.

He reached out to the fridge as he normally does to look for his dinner plate that gets stored away whenever he is not home for dinner. He felt a tinge in his finger, then it spread through the whole hand, then suddenly he felt like his whole arm just got electrocuted, then his whole body. A cold sweat covered him. He felt woozy and suddenly his vision got blurry. A thud was heard as he fell flat on the floor on his back. He could not see anymore. He tried to call out for help but the words escaped him. He screamed but even he could not hear his own screams. His voice was gone. His sight was gone. He felt the way one feels when they are caught between a dream state and a waking state; you know when you try to wake up and you cannot? You tell yourself that you are now moving your arm but it does not move? They used to tell us it was because there was a spiderweb going above our sleeping heads, but we never saw them when we finally woke up. However what Sboniso was going through was worse than that. He could feel himself getting weaker. He could feel the energy slowly leaving his body and thought to himself, "this must be what death feels like" and started wishing he had spent the weekened with his son instead. He saw himself hovering over his helpless body looking at it twitching uncontrollably on the floor. He could hear Lunga and Nomvula rushing to his aid. He could hear his younger siblings troubled voices calling for him to open his eyes, 'say something, get up! Just do something to show you are still alive damnit!'

The trauma the kids must have felt watching their older brother's helpless twitching body on the cold tiled kitchen floor without a shirt on. Lunga rushed out to get help and soon they were at the local clinic. The clinic could not help them, they said he was critical so they reffered them to the hospital "though it will be too late for him if you wait for the ambulance, they take a long time to get here." said the concerened nurse on duty. They had to drive him there on the neighbour's car. On their way to the hospital his mouth moved as if he wanted to say something, they feared he might be trying to say his last words so they asked him to save his energy until they got to the hospital. Lunga's phone and Sboniso's phone both ringing off the hook! Concerned family members worried and trying to get an update but Lunga could not get himself to pick up any of the calls. He wouldn't know what to tell everyone just yet. His young big head was swelling up with worry. He was praying and crying at the same time. He could hear himself crying, but he was unaware of the short prayers he was sending out on his brother's behalf asking the Lord not to take him just yet.

They arrived at Robs hospital and found the line was long with injury patients; a long line of bleeding people who appeared more emergencies than a semi-unconscious young man pushed on a wheelchair. Lunga went up to the reception and told them they have a critical patient who was reffered from the Kanyamazane Clinic. Fortunately they could attend them quick after checking their refferal letter. The nurse checked for his pulse and opened his eyes to check on his pupils then quickly rushed him to a room and connected a drip on him. She then explained that "he had been drained of all bodily fluids and his internal organs were slowly shutting down. He would be okay though since he is now being re-hydrated. What happened? Has he been poisoned?" she asked.

This reminded me of something that had happened to me a few year ago when I was still living alone. I arrived home drunk after having finished two bottles of red wine in one night. I was at a party with some friends, hence so much drinking. I can barely finish a single bottle on an ordinary night. Two bottles was too much. I woke up in the morning feeling too weak to even get up to piss. I felt so dehydrated I could hardly open my eyes: I could feel the eyelids scratching on the eyeballs as I tried to open them. When I tried to open my mouth, I felt the tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. My mouth was that dry! I was hungry! Starved even but I could not get up. I thought maybe if I went back to sleep for another hour I could recuperate. I tried but when I woke, I felt worse than before. I had to get something in my body but I could hardly lift my own hand. Luckily my cellphone was just under my pillow so I reached out to it and called my sister. When I tried to speak, I felt fumes, like petrol fumes come out of my mouth and the voice forced itself through my dry throat. It sounded gruff and horse like a horse's voice. It hurt my throat to speak and I suddenly realised I had a terrible headache. I could not lift my head. I could not get up from the bed to go piss but I was breathing. My sister came through and splashed water on my face, which suprisingly boosted me a little, then gave me a glass to drink while she fixed me something to eat. It took me a whole 24 hours to recover from that. The whole day I was not my full self.

Alcohol is easily accessible in our communities and it is taken for granted so much so that even little kids have ready access to it. We forget how dangerous alcohol can be not only to kids but to us grown ups too. We have never had training on how to handle this dangerous substance. We were never orientated into this drinking part of life that many of us find ourselves having to maneuver through blindly relying on our own experiences to give us warnings and lessons on what to and what not to drink; when to and when not to drink! All of this is scary because we do not have enough lives for trial and error. With alcohol, you make one serious error, you could end up dying and your experience could be a lesson for others coming after you.

It is evident from experience that alcohol seriously dehydrates the body. That in itself is a danger since the human body cannot function without fluids. All internal organs need water to function properly and alcohol drains the body of its water thus leading to the chemical imbalance that is the 'drunk' state.

Also, alcohol is a digestif, meaning it speeds up the digestion of food in the stomach. This is why most of us feel hungry after drinking and we of course cannot drink without having eaten first. No one ever taught us to eat first before drinking, experience taught us that if we drink alcohol on an empty stomach we get too drunk too quick and wake up feeling extremely weak. This could have killed us long ago if it killed. Well it does in fact kill because that is supposedly how alcohol poisoning occurs.

Something very intersting I have learned very recently was that not all alcohol is for everyone, just like not all food types are for all blood types. I subscribe to the bloodtype diet lifestyle and have learned that as a blood type A, beer is poison for me. This is why I only drink red wine. But even the red wine is equally dangerous if I go over one glass a day (250ml). A lot of alcohol drinkers do so irresponsibly in many ways: one way is that they drink anything with a alcohol percentage. Always remember that the higher the alcohol percentage, the quicker it dehydrates you, meaning the quicker it can kill you, or at least weaken you. The higher alcohol percentage is responsible for making young man and woman cough like TB patients with weaker lungs.

I can go on forever on this topic but my main point was the dangers of the accessibility of alcohol in our communities without any available platforms for effectively teaching members of communities about its effects. I recently wrote a book titled The Coach which followed a group of young Chess players on a trip to a National Championship when they decide to experiment with hard liquor. Though a work of fiction, the book is based on actual events, occurences that those who work with kids can attest to having witnessed; groups of kids on trips clubbing money together to buy alcohol. Kids experiment with alcohol on their own without any supervision because they do it in secret. The secrecy of it is where lies the danger. I would not recommend that parents teach their children how to drink, but just like the sex talk which is promoted and encouraged, the drinking talk is also necessary. Children should get these lessons at home first before they make fools of themselves trying to earn street cred by proving they are hard drinkers. Alcohol kills. The warnings on the bottles are not direct enough.

Before I go, always remember to drink lots of water before you go to sleep if you have been drinking. Do this without fail, it might save your life.

Happy Youth Day South Africa
Happy Father's Day to all the father

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Youth Day Chess Speech

Last year on the 16th of June I was asked to Arbiter at a tournament in Embalenhle. Knowing that there would be a lot of young Chess players there whom I believe hold the future of the country, I prepared this speech:

On the day of the commemoration of the youth of 1976. It makes you wonder if there was no youth in '66 or '86, but that does not really matter since we don't know what their struggle was. The youth of 76 were confronted with a language barrier that threatened their hope of getting educated. It was to be set to law that all subjects in all schools, including black schools are to be taught in Afrikaans. A language that was as foreign to them as French is to most of us regular everyday South Africans today. All text books including mathematics, physics and accounting would be in Afrikaans and as such Afrikaans would be the medium of instruction. Upon realising the steepness of this struggle, upon realising the systematic blockade to education that the apartheid government was implementing, the 76ers never went crying to their parents and elders for a solution. They never folded their arms in hopes that the same government that declared apartheid lawful over 20 years ago would come to their senses. We all know what they did. They rose up to the challenge face front. They confronted the system laying their lives on the line all in the name of freedom of education, education in a language they understood. It might not seem like a big deal to you, it shouldn't. It wasn't your struggle. The fact that it is not your struggle is a testament to their achievement. The 76ers fought a good fight.

Every generation must wake up to the struggle of their time and dedicate their lives in ensuring that the same struggle does not affect the next generation after them. The founders of Embalenhle Chess Club realised that the struggle of our time lies in the mental development of the black child in the black community. They have learned that Chess was kept away from black communities for fear of its mental sharpening qualities producing formidable revolutionaries. Chess is a mental sport that trains one to think strategically and tactically. It is a mental exercise that keeps the brain fit and sharp. It teaches one to look for solutions by first understanding the problem. Chess is essentially a problem solving game and as such it was kept away from those whose daily lives were confronted by problems.

The founders of this club are what I would like to call Chess Activists. Their mission ,after realising the challenges within the systems, was to ensure that the black child has access to this mental sharpening game of chess. There are great systematic challenges to getting chess into townships and rural areas. There are federations in place who are meant to be spearheading such developments, but that is not really their problem. They focus on the cities and suburbs were the money is. But just like the 76ers who did not wait for their parents and elders to rise up on their behalf, the Embalenhle Chess Club founders took it upon themselves to rise against the challenge of their time as they see it.

Embalenhle Chess Club hosts the 16 June tournament in commemoration of the youth of 1976. This, I wish to believe is not only done for the reason of convenience given that the date is a public holiday. Rather I wish to believe that this is done first to remind themselves of the reason they started this Chess Club, thus on this day their mission is rejuvinated and their flame to light up the mind of the black child re-ignited. Secondly it is to remind you youth of today that the youth of 76 had a mission which was to rise against the most pertinent struggle of their time, and since you've never been forced to learn in a language foreign to you, they succeeded.

You might be wondering what your mission could be because everything seems fine from where you stand. Well to you I say at some point you will need to come out for more oxygen from that vacuum you are living in. And when you do come out just look, listen and decide as Stimela would say. As you look you will realise that gender based violence makes being female a trauma. If you listen you will hear that tertiary education is losing value as graduates are turned streets sweepers while drop outs are living like kings. Then you'll decide whether to be a part of the problem or the solution.

There is nothing worse than a Chess player without a mission or direction in life. They are like a soldier without a battle to fight. You will find them starting up useless arguements about girls, cars or rap just to have something to argue about. Their minds are working over time and sadly they have no substance to work on. Chess has an innumerable number of benefits for the developing brain but the brain needs to be fed substance to digest after its daily training. The problem with young Chess players today is they read only Chess books and then expect that Chess will make them smart. Chess helps develop high level understanding, but how will you truly appreciate the implications of that if you have never picked up a philosophy book to read?!

Chess players, especially the young ones, please make it a point that every week you read something other than a Chess book for your brain to digest on. Your brains are sharp and quick but they lack substance. Feed them, hopefully then we will all learn never to take anything for granted. Through reading we will attain enlightenment. That enlightenment will teach us never to take anything for granted. We will learn that lives were sacrificed and endangered in order for us to have the right to name our kids in our own languages. We will learn that people died so we could have access to higher education, the same education that is now turning into a mockery. Sacrifices were made just so women could be recognised as equal to men and have all the same rights as men, the same rights that men are now violating in the name of love. The problems are all around us waiting for you Chess players, skilled problem solvers to take the initiative. It always starts with one person convincing another, then it snowball's. I picked up on the Chess for Community Development Movement and engaged a few friends. We now have Msogwaba Chess Club, the Home of Champions. Seriously, all the top players in the province, most of them champions are from Msogwaba Chess Club.

It is on you now to find the struggle of your time, solve it so that the future generation never even hears of it. And if they do, they should not believe it was ever as serious a problem. Because why else are we here if not to make life easier for those that will follow after us?

There is nothing worse than an ignorant youth that grows up to become ignorant parents who tell their kids to accept the status quo, "it has always been like this", they would say "who are you to think you can change it alone"

Well next time you tell them, 'I dealt with worse on the Chess board, this is nothing to me. I'm a chess player, remember? Solving problems is what I do best!' Then you go and work out the necessary combinations to tackle the problems of your days. Young Chess players are the future. The future needs thinkers like yourselves. Just make sure you don't waste your powerful brains thinking only of Chess problems. Let us not forget that chess is merely a tool for sharpening up your minds. Use those minds to bring change not only in your homes but also in your communities. You can be the difference. Here's to Chess! Here's to Young people. Mostly, here's to Young Chess Players!!! Tomorrow looks brighter in your hands.

Sadly we were too pressed for time and I ended up being unable to deliver the speech, this is why I decided to share it here in hopes that some young aspiring chess player out there will read it

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Men teach Women Lead!

I remember just last month my teenage nephew asked if I could teach him how to play Chess because he wanted to impress a girl who was a Chess player. He has recently moved here to stay with my niece, my mother and myself. My niece is a really strong Chess player who has even travelled internationally to play Chess representing South Africa. So when my nephew asked me to teach him, I referred him to his cousin whom he has gotten so close to and spends so much time with everyday; this would make their quality time more productive since they will be sharing Chess wisdom. I was not prepared for his response especially since I assumed he had so much respect for her after she had taught him how to cook; I mean they spend so much time chatting and laughing together and I expect that this means they have mutual respect for each other.

Before my nephew moved to live with us, my niece and I would share the house chores equally between the two of us. We would alternate between cooking and washing dishes: on days that I cooked, she would do the dishes and vice versa. So when my nephew came, I told him he would inherit my share of the house chores, he agreed but he unfortunately could not cook, which I thought was shameful (in the words of Chimamanda Adichie : "I have never thought it made sense to leave such a crucial thing, the ability to nourish one's self , in the hands of others.") So I asked my niece to teach him, and she did and now he is a good enough cook. We enjoy his cooking every second day. So naturally, when he asked if I could teach him Chess, I though the same teacher who was good enough to give him the cooking skill and is as equally skilled in Chess could do the job but he refused saying "I don't want to be taught by a girl!."

At the local Library I had taught some grown ups how to play Chess and they were getting the hang of it, steadily grasping the concepts of the game and getting some confidence as they started winning some games against untrained visitors who have learned how to play from under a tree somewhere! As a way to demostrate to them that they were not there yet, there was still a lot to learn, I would bring in some of the kids I had taught a while back who are really good players and they would embarass the grown ups who would approach the game as if their life experiences gave them an advantage over the Chess board. The week before, I had brought an eleven year old boy and he had all of them begging for mercy.
In the following week I brought my niece who was 13 at the time, two years older than the boy. As soon as she came in I could hear all the men claiming "I would not be beaten by a little girl in Chess. If she beats me I will quit and never play Chess again." She beat them all. They were all heartbroken, sad and confused. Instead of being proud of this brilliant girl they chose to make her feel as though she had done something wrong embarrassing grown up man.

I remember my mother used to tell me how she was always the best learner in all her classes growing up. She excelled in everything and always took first position until she reached Form 1, (Standard 6, now Grade 8) and her father, my grandfather told her he was not going to waste his money sending a girl to school. He thought it would be a waste of money that should be used to buy Cabbage instead. He rationalised his actions by explaining that as a girl, my mother will be taken as somebody's wife and leave his house to take care of another man's house. Which was true to some extent, but even as she moved to live with my father, she still provided for her father and mother and even became financially responsible for all her siblings. After she left my father, she came back to be the head of her father's house carrying all the household responsibilities including building them a proper house. That is because she managed to take herself through school while working in the farms as a kid.

The barriers are shifting but the perceptions still seem to be one sided

South Africa has just created history by introducing its first ever cabinet with an equal number of female ministers as that of male ministers. This is historical and groundbreaking considering the plight of women to be recognised as leaders and generally be offered equal opportunities to prove their abilities. There was a time when South Africans were hopeful to get a woman President but then hey, getting equal representation in the ministries is also good enough. We have to always remember however, that the war for equal recognition is far from over. We still live in a patriarchal society and the sad part is that these female ministers will have to play by the already set systematic rules that favour masculinity.
They will have to work with men who grew up not wanting to learn cognitive mind sports from their female cousins and men who grew up believing that losing to a female was an embarrasment. These women will have to lead men who refuse to be led by women and it would be sad to find that there would be some women too who prefer male leaders to women leaders, because they too are daughters of the same society that raises these men.

The biggest challenge, I believe is the changing of people's perceptions about leaders. In our societies, almost all leadership roles are automatically associated with maleness and females are expected to play the supportive roles. It is in our movies; it is in our schools; it is in our churches; it is in our homes and even in our politics. For as long as the words "Starring", "Principal" , "Pastor", "Head" and "President" trigger a male image, we have a long way to go.

It is the responsibility of these female leaders to uplift the image of women in society by becoming more visible as leaders and unapologetically more vocal and feminine in their leadership styles. I have had the pleasure of watching a video of some powerful women in business explain to their audience how the modern office environment favours the leadership qualities mostly attributed to women: such attributes as compassion, emotional intelligence and transparency among others. The visibility of female leaders using attributes traditionally associated to women to win trust and garner support from the nation will be necessary to convince the girl-child that they do not need to become masculine in order to become leaders, they are enough as they are; such visibility will be very crucial in challenging and possibly changing the stereotypical leadership image.

I personally feel that the most impact could be made by changing the system which favours a specific gender and challenge completely the stereotypical images of both genders. If the trend setting pioneering move is to be truly admirable, it should be signed into law that every cabinet should have at least 50% female representation. Five years is a very short time for making lasting impact and completely challenging leadership stereotypes. We have learned that in the USA, although the 2 terms served by former President Barrack Obama helped in eliminating colour from many young people's visualisation of the word "President", to the many old Americans it has served as an 8 year systematic glitch that had to be over compansated for. We have to worry aswell that if the women who will be serving as ministers have no powers to influence systematic change, their time in office will soon be considered a glitch that needs correcting by the many bigots that surround us. Even so, it will not be a surprise if next election we get a female president with a cabinet of 90 per cent male ministers. As long as the system is geared towards masculinity, having female leaders will make little difference because in trying to prove efficiency the female leaders will also appoint males to other supportive leadership roles.

If we look at the fact that the minister of Basic Education in the past five years or so has been a women and yet the stats showed just last year that even though women made up over 72.5 percent of teachers, only 37.3 percent of Principals were female (www.africacheck.org). This numbers maintained the perception that Women Teach while Men Lead. So in essence, women teach men how to be leaders while the men in their leadership roles try to surpress the women keeping them as their subordinates.

So as much as the responsibility to change the perceptions is in the shoulders of the appointed ministers, it also rests in the shoulders of each teacher and parent to be cognisant and attentive of the ways their words and actions maintain or challenge these imagery stereotypes.
These subliminals are embedded in the ways we react when a girl-child has cracked open her cellphone to remove a simcard or memory card versus when a boy-child does it. This could be in the way we are "understanding" when a girl-child loses a Chess game to a boy-child and find it "unbelievable" and awe inspiring when she wins- it is even destructive when we find it to be embarassing to the boy-child if he loses to a girl-child. Infact, I have noticed that as a result of this, it becomes more painful to the boy-child when he looses to a girl-child. This is because the boy-child feels like he has lost more than just a chess game; he also looses his image as a potential "man" and appears weak to his peers. This is why in practice some of them even try to cheat when they see a checkmate looming. Some break up the pieces in some half-baked show of bravado. In some instances, a few have quit playing Chess for real.
These are some phenomena I had first witnessed when I first took my Chess kids to the district federation's Chess tournaments. I would be surprised by the caucasion kids' breakdown after they lost to my kids. These kids would cry hysterically that the arbiter would have to find their parents to calm them down. The loss would break them, it appeared as if loosing to an African child shuttered their whole reality: it challenged all they had learned or had been taught as true about themselves in relation to the African child or about the African in general. Of course, after a while the kids from this distric stopped crying, they had gradually unlearned the lessons that hurt them and learned new ones. We continued to play other districs and had the same effect on the caucasion kids of both genders as well. It was exciting being responsible for changing social perceptions through the Chess game.

I am hopeful that after this 5 year term, the perception of the political leader would have changed, if nowhere else, at least here in Mpumalanga where the premier is also a Women. The truth is, it is not that women have not been leaders and rolemodels in society, it is only that their roles of leadership have not been recognised as such and not quite celebrated as the roles played by men. It is important for the dream of any child to remain alive and seem possible, that they see and witness role models that look like them.

A lot could be said in this topic but I am afraid I might loose direction if I continued. I will leave the rest for you to add on the comments section. I have daughters and sons that I wish could one day read your comments and feel the paradigm shifting.

I have no idea who made this but I feel it has some significance here. What do you think?

Some references:
https://africacheck.org/reports/women-teach-and-men-lead-gender-inequality-in-south-african-schools-examined/

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